Caught
by Likhoradka
Summary: Destiel. Dean gets caught in a storm.


AN: Drabble-thing for biggreenbug's prompt, 'storm,' on Tumblr.

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Caught  
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Dean stared out the window of the old cabin. He sighed in irritation as the wind howled. It was just his luck he'd get stuck in the middle of nowhere right when a snow storm hit. No reception, no land lines, nothing. And where was Sam? Nice and comfy back at their motel near the base of the mountain.

Hours passed, and it grew colder. Dean shivered as he rummaged through the cabin, looking for anything to keep him warm. Old paper, bits of wood… No matches. He kicked at a dilapidated couch in frustration. A lantern, a wood stove, a fireplace, a candle, and whatever. What do you light first? Light the God damn match. It would figure that he'd be stuck in a riddle without the matches.

He thrust his hands in his pockets. He groaned as he felt the cold metal of his lighter in his coat pocket. He was an idiot. He pulled out his lighter, and lit a fire in the fireplace. Satisfied, he sat back to admire his work.

Even though it was old and about to fall apart, it was a cozy little cabin in the mountains. From the looks of it, it used to belong to a hunter. Of the supernatural variety. Maps, drawings, and sigils lined the walls, as well as bits of monsters and natural wildlife. In the middle of the floor lay a slightly worn bear skin rug.

Dean looked from the rug to the fireplace. It was a nice, romantic setup. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. All he needed now was a willing partner. He sat on the rug, and his mind drifted to all the potentials he wouldn't mind sharing the warmth of the fire with. The cute bartender from the other night. Lisa. The friendly waitress from three towns back. Maybe the Doctor Sally from the ER.

He smiled to himself. It would be great, but not perfect. Perfect would be if his romantic interest was a little shy. A small fantasy played out in head.

They would run in, drenched to the bone from the thick, wet snow. He'd light a fire straight away. He'd have to coax her to remove the wet clothing. Definitely the coat, at the very least. Shoes and socks, too. He'd reassure her that there were no ulterior motives as he took off his own coat. Didn't want to catch pneumonia, after all. Maybe the jacket should come off. The tie. Definitely the tie.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed happily. They would scoot a little closer, not quite touching. Both wanting warmth, but not wanting to invade the other's space. Maybe…they just weren't getting warm enough. Their clothes would still be too cold and damp. Should probably shed another layer of wet clothes. Get rid of the pants, the shirt. Just sit around in their boxers or briefs or whatever Castiel happened to be wearing under those slacks of his.

He grinned. Yes, Castiel would be perfect. Shy, unsure, inexperienced, a little clueless. He would pull the angel close, and Castiel would go stiff, not sure what to do. Dean would reassure him that it was just to get warm. Castiel would relax, maybe lean in a little. Dean would bring up how romantic the setting was. Place a soft kiss on the top of Castiel's head. Thank him for being there when he needed the angel most.

And sweet, innocent, wonderful Castiel would blush so prettily. Stare at Dean with wide eyes. Tilt his head up ever so slightly, hoping for a proper kiss but not daring to make the first move.

Then Dean would slowly lean down as Castiel would shiver in anticipation, the cold long forgotten. He would kiss the angel so long and slow. Explore every corner and crevice of his mouth. Taste every small bit he could.

'Is that what you want?' a voice said from right next to him.

Dean startled and scrambled away from the source of the voice. He stared, blushing brightly, at Castiel. 'W-what?! How…? Why are you here?!' he cried out. The angel had been sitting right next to him. How long had he been there?

Castiel smiled in amusement at Dean. 'Sam prayed to me. He is worried about you,' he replied.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. Of course. Sam. And why hadn't he thought to pray to Castiel for help? 'So, uh…can I get a lift back?' he asked.

Castiel looked around the cabin, not moving from his spot on the rug. With a thought, the room was restored to its former glory. He looked back at Dean. 'I suppose I could do that, but wouldn't you rather enjoy the atmosphere?'

Dean looked around, panic and uncertainty creeping into his stomach.

'I…am not opposed to your fantasy, Dean,' Castiel said, not looking away.

Dean swallowed and scooted back to his former position next to Castiel. He searched for any clue Castiel's eyes might give him, but found none. He stared into the fire and slowly brought his arm up to rest on Castiel's shoulders. 'Um…you uh…' Dean's mind shut down as a head rested on his shoulder.

'You have very interesting dreams, Dean,' Castiel said softly. 'I would not mind acting them out.'

Dean took a deep breath before lightly kissing the top of Castiel's head. 'I'd like that.'


End file.
